


The Sixteen Candles Protocol

by tisfan



Series: Imagine Tony and Bucky 2018 [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anniversary, Bucky Barnes is a troll, Celebrations, Date Night, Friday is a good bro, M/M, Tony Stark Is Not Helping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-07 12:38:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14081124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: Tony doesn't always remember anniversaries, and Bucky remembers all of them.Time to get Friday involved for some help...





	The Sixteen Candles Protocol

**Author's Note:**

> Bucky has been warned that Tony is very bad at remembering important dates (birthdays, etc), so he decides to make up random reasons to celebrate without telling Tony what they're celebrating (because he's secretly a little shit.)

“Boss,” Friday said, pulling Tony out of an engineering hole. “We’ve got a code _Sixteen Candles_.”

Tony blinked and looked up from the schematics. “If I can just eek another point two percent out-- wait, what? What did I forget?”

“I don’t know, boss, I just work here,” Friday reported. “But I’ve got Barnes coming in hot, dressed to impress and he’s carrying flowers.”

Tony ground his teeth together enough that he thought he might crack a molar, but try as he might, he couldn’t remember-- It wasn’t March, so it wasn’t Bucky’s birthday, and it certainly wasn’t May, his own. In further fact, it was August, which was a whole lot of nothing, and more nothing. There wasn’t even a federal holiday in there that Bucky could have hijacked for some unknown reason.

“You’ve got the protocols on that?” Tony begged, desperate.

“Of course, I’m on it, boss,” Friday said. “Rush delivery, your standard order. And I’ve managed to snag reservations at… oh, Toledo’s just had an opening, and… yes. Spanish cuisine tonight, boss.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Tony told his AI. “Remind me to give you a raise.”

“Should be easy for you, boss,” Friday said, smugly. “As you don’t pay me, now.”

And Friday slowed the elevator, not noticeably, but enough so that Tony was able to hit a save point on his work, and be wiping off his hands just as Bucky made the door with flowers. “Cupcake,” Tony greeted him, always warmed to see his perfect boyfriend, no matter what the occasion. “These are for me? Of course they’re for me, they’re lovely.” And they were lovely, dark yellow and brilliant red roses, with a single glowing blue orchid in the very center. “And you, you’re lovely, too.”

Bucky _was_. Dressed up in one of his sinfully tight jeans, stretched tees and a sport coat over it, the man looked more like a model than a brainwashed assassin-turned superhero, but hey, Tony was a playboy billionaire, which didn’t keep him out of a super suit, either.

Tony checked the bouquet carefully. Who knew, maybe there was a card or something that gave it away, but while there was a card, all it said was _love you, dollface_ and contained no reason for a celebration. Except that Bucky always brought Tony flowers when there was a celebration.

Of course, Bucky had the weirdest calendar in his head; he remembered their first date, the first time Bucky had said “I love you,” and much to Tony’s dismay, the first time Tony had said it back. So sue him, he panicked, and Bucky’s declaration went unanswered for almost a month before Tony gathered the courage to return -- out loud and everything -- the sentiment. And he recalled and celebrated the first time they’d slept together (which was several months before _either_ declaration, so, there was that, at least.)

Bucky took joy in remembering every little thing; not just his birthday and Tony’s, but he knew the inception date of JARVIS, Friday, the bots. He mourned with Tony on the day that Vision had been born, which happened to also be JARVIS’s last moments.

And Tony didn’t like to ask, because Bucky would tell him, he always told Tony everything, but he’d give those little hurt puppy eyes before he buried it in a brilliant smile, like Tony had disappointed yet another person he loved by just not caring as much. Which wasn’t true at all, Tony cherished every single moment they had together. He just… didn’t always remember them.

Sometimes it made Tony feel like a bad boyfriend, that he didn’t deserve someone like Bucky -- hell with that, Tony _knew_ he didn’t deserve Bucky -- but most of the time, he was going to just live with his overwhelming sense of inadequacy and keep Bucky _anyway_.

And if that meant another evening feeling like he somehow wasn’t measuring up, he’d take it. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d enacted the _Sixteen Candles_ protocol; got flowers and chocolate and wine ordered and sent up, pretended that reservations had been on the table for weeks, would go out and spend an evening staring at his incredibly beautiful boyfriend, come home and spend the night doing what he did best; wearing them both out until they were laying in bed covered in sweat, the sheets a mess, and both of them sated.

“You’re all ready? I was just going to run up and shower,” Tony told him, “and then I’m good to go.”

“You’re the best,” Bucky told him. He kissed the side of Tony’s mouth, and then his cheek, rubbed against Tony’s jaw like a kitten, and ended with a brief nuzzle at Tony’s ear, which really made Tony want to drag Bucky off to the shower to nail him against the stall, but if they were going to make their reservations, Tony didn’t have time for that. Ah well, anticipation; it was supposed to make things better, right? “Best boyfriend, best best best. I’m glad you remembered.”

“How could I forget?” Tony asked, cupping the side of Bucky’s face and just looking at him, drinking him in. “You’re the most important thing in the world to me.”

Bucky grinned, blushing and looking deliciously shy.

Twenty minutes later and they were out for dinner, enjoying cervase and sangria and Tony had forgotten all about what he’d forgotten about.

***

And so it went; some of the dates Tony actually remembered, and he had Friday keep a log, so that he wouldn’t miss it the next year -- if they managed to stay together for more than two years, which would be incredible and a record-breaking accomplishment for Tony, at least.

But then, the seventeenth of January rolled around again; the anniversary -- _the second anniversary_ \-- of their first kiss…

And Bucky didn’t bring him flowers.

Well, maybe it was just a one off. Tony didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, if Bucky wasn’t making a big deal out of it. He just cancelled their dinner reservations and had Friday pay off the flower delivery driver and…

Okay, so he brooded for the rest of the night. He didn’t know how to explain it, either. He’d kept track. So, you know, Friday did it for him, but what the hell, even? He built Friday, so it was almost the same thing as remembering himself, wasn’t it?

When Bucky asked him why he was so quiet, Tony lied. Said he was just tired, had a headache, couldn’t shake it. Went off to bed early and Bucky probably knew Tony wasn’t asleep when he came up, but he let it go. Settled into bed like it was no big deal.

Tony wondered. Was it something that he’d done, or was Bucky just… not as interested in him anymore. He’d heard that the spark died out, sometimes. Not that it did with him, he was as crazy about Bucky as he’d ever been, just the touch of the man’s hand set him on fire, and Bucky was the first thing that Tony looked for in the morning.

Finally, Bucky sat up wit a deep sigh; it was three in the morning and Tony hadn’t slept at all, just lay there, listening to Bucky breathe and wonder if it was the beginning of the end.

“What’s wrong, dollface?” Bucky asked, “an’ don’t tell me nothin’. Just tell me what it is. I can’t help you if I don’t know.”

Tony allowed himself to be dragged across the bed and buried his face in the warm, safe crook of Bucky’s neck. “It’s our anniversary,” Tony said, soft and gentle. He didn’t want Bucky to think he was angry, because Tony wasn’t angry. He was just said. “The second anniversary, actually.”

Bucky took a deep breath. Hesitated. “Fuck me, is it?”

“Did _you_ forget? Two years to the day, since the first time you kissed me.”

Bucky groaned. “No, it ain’t.”

Yes it was. Tony had checked. He’d _double checked_. “I… am confused.”

“Honey, I don’t know what day it was, first time we kissed,” Bucky admitted.

“The seventeenth of January,” Tony said, promptly.

“No, it ain’t,” Bucky repeated. “I… I jus’ made that up, last year. Thought you oughtta take some time out of the ‘shop an’ have a little fun. You were ignorin’ me about it, so I made it up.”

“What?”

“Everyone told me you were bad with things like that, anniversaries, an’ birthdays an’ stuff,” Bucky said. “So, I figured you wouldn’t know. An’ it got you to come join me for dinner.”

“I… wait, _what_?”

“I expected you’d catch on, eventually,” Bucky said. “But you didn’t, an’ I know Friday was making those last minute reservations for us, so… Whenever I wanted to take you out, I just made a production ‘bout coming in to the Tower with flowers.”

“I… uh…” Tony’s brain literally was locked up. Someone threw away the key. “None of that was real?”

“Ever’ bit of it was _real_ ,” Bucky said, almost offended. “You kissed me. You took me out on dates. You told me you loved me. Eventually.” There was a half smile for that. “Did it _really_ matter what the day was?”

“Well, no,” Tony said. “I never thought it did, but I thought-- baby, I thought it was important to you, and that I was letting you down, because I didn’t remember.”

Bucky’s eyes went huge and liquid in the dark. “Oh, oh, Tony… no, baby, no, you were never letting me down, not never. I jus’... making it special, so we could go out, that was you… remembering. That was you, makin’ time for me, to spend time with me. That’s all that was ever important, honey.”

“I thought you didn’t remember this year because you… because it _didn’t_ matter anymore,” Tony admitted. He wasn’t crying, not from grief or fear or even relief. That was his story and he was sticking to it.

“God, I’m a heel,” Bucky swore. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m so _sorry_. Every time you kiss me, it’s celebratin’ the first time. Every single time. Every time we go out, I remember the first time, and the second time, and all the times in between. It’s not that I don’t remember the important stuff, Tony, it’s that it’s all important stuff. I want to have so many dates, so many kisses, that I literally cannot possibly remember them all, and I want to try anyway. You… you’re my everything. Every day with you is an anniversary. Promise, honey.”

There was a part of Tony that wanted to be mad, that wanted to sulk and brood and feel sorry for himself. That part was getting smaller by the second as Bucky kissed him and apologized and continued to tell Tony how much he was loved and wanted and adored and appreciated, until that little voice packed its bags and left.

“I love you,” Tony told Bucky.

“Love you, too. So much.”

***

“Hey, boss,” Friday said, as Tony left the boardroom. Ug, what a terrible meeting that had been.

“S’up, girl?”

“I’ve got Barnes coming in hot, with flowers,” she reported. “Enact _Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind_ protocols?”

Tony grinned. “Yeah, sounds good. I’m in the mood for ridiculous amounts of toppings on waffles. See what you can find for us.”

“Date night, got it, boss.”

 


End file.
